Liar
by moomolie1709
Summary: He deceived her, lied to her the entire time. She didn't even recognize the stranger he had become. 1886
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi guys! First time trying out this couple, so I'm really just experimenting. It's modernish time period, with Haru as the lead (I know I never actually state her name)

**Liar**

She loved him. No matter what he had done, no matter how much he had changed, the fact would still remain, she still loved him. Even when every fiber of her being was torturing her, begging her not to, she couldn't stop. Call it cruel fate, but she was in love with the man that had plotted against her and ruined her life.

She had fallen for him—she had fallen so hard that she wasn't able to listen to her head over her heart. He controlled her, he _owned _her. He had everyone dancing in the palm of his hand, and none of them knew it. He had deceived her, hurt her, shattered her entire world.

He manipulated her caring nature and twisted it to his advantage. He let her believe that he needed her help, that she had saved him from his dark past. She never dared to question him of his past, she didn't want to risk the consequences of learning his history.

He broke through the walls she built around her, forcing his way into the most intimate corners of her mind, pulling the greatest secrets she kept out of her. He knew her inside and out, she hid nothing from him.

She had only wished that it had been a two way street, she never expected that he had been concealing something so deep. Maybe if she had been more wary of him, if she had seen through the veneer of his lies, it wouldn't have turned out like this. Maybe then her life wouldn't have crashed down around her. She was willing to do anything to turn back to clock, to stop herself from buying into his charm.

The instant the they met, he lured her innocent heart in, captivating her, pretending to be someone that he knew she wanted. It turned out that he was an amazing actor, with quite the convincing performance. He executed every scene and every line flawlessly, with no mistakes to ever make her question his sincerity. He was always there for her, always her savior, her refuge. He became the perfect gentleman: genuine, selfless, caring. She thought of him as the blood-hating man who had risked his own life to stop a street fight. She remembered him as the soft-hearted one who had shielded her from the weather when she had forgotten her umbrella, or the shy boy who was embarrassed to kiss her on the cheek before sending her home, even the respectful one who had earned support from anyone who happened to cross paths with him.

And when she was least expecting it, he turned on her.

It was a grave mistake to ignore his occasional cryptic behavior, it was one that would cost her everything. Nothing would ever let her recover from what had been brought on.

She never doubted his intentions, she thought she understood him. But the instant that his charade ended, the moment that the curtain fell, his true colors shone through. She was unable to recognize the cold stranger that had been revealed to her. The man that she felt she knew was really one that possessed a hidden agenda. From that point on, she came to know him for what he really was, the one that people from all over feared, Hibari Kyoya.

She had grown up like a princess, pampered like royalty. No item was too expensive, no request was out of reach, it was made sure that she had anything she could have ever hoped for. She was always dressed in the most decadent of dresses, adorned with the flashiest of jewelry. Her father had made it a point that anyone who had upset her would pay dearly for it.

But while most children dream of growing up in a palace, they would have no idea that even the nicest of castles can be the most suffocating of prisons. She spent most of her time locked in her room, her privacy nearly nonexistent, forbidden to go to school with other children, interact with anyone besides her handmaids, forced to hold the hand of an adult while going down the stairs, not allowed to taste her own food, or even read the books she wanted. She was sheltered from the outside world, she didn't even have access to the newspaper or popular books, for her father grew afraid of her discovering his true identity.

Though her father made noble efforts to try and conceal his lifestyle, she knew from a young age that her father was the leader of one of the most notorious triads in Hong Kong. She was a sharp, intelligent girl, and she knew from a young age that she didn't like being deceived. She was well aware that her caretakers were all ruthless killers without consciences. By the time she was blooming into womanhood, her father laid everything out in plain sight. The stifling rules that had been set during the earlier years of her existence continued to ground her.

No outside contacts. No friends. No relationships. And especially, no boys.

As much as she wished to be free, even for just one day, she stayed obedient. She followed all of her father's orders, complied with his demands to study, and took it on the duties that her father felt that a young lady should take.

But even some days she broke the rules, like the evening she slipped past her father's henchman and wandered the hallways of the building. She had done this numerous time before, all it was a stroll to relieve her anxiety, and after an hour or two, she would retire back to her room, no harm done. But as it happened, she found something completely out of the ordinary this time.

He was doubled over in the shadows, clinging onto his stomach. She was afraid at first, debating whether or not to run or scream for help. But she then realized that the figure she had spotted was of no threat, as it was barely moving. As she got closer, he was leaning against a wall, with hands covered in blood. He was suffering from a bullet wound to his side, and he was barely hanging onto consciousness.

Without thinking, she dragged the stranger into her room, trying to heal his wounds as best she could. He slept by the foot of her bed that night. Eventually she realized that she couldn't do much for such a serious injury, and brought a trained nurse in to properly treat him.

Just as she had expected it to, word broke out that she was harboring a young man in private, and her father had called her into his office. She was ready to beg for forgiveness when instead of being furious; her father astounded her, and expressed how proud he was of her.

The wounded boy she had found was really a triad prodigy who had come from Italy to help her father run everything. He apparently was one of the leading candidates to succeed her father in the future. Her father instructed her to continue on as they were, and to supply their new guest with whatever he asked for. She was allowed to spend time with him on her own accord. The liberty her father granted her around him amazed her.

She hadn't anticipated on forming any type of bond with besides more than acquaintanceship. But he was sure to change her mind. Slowly but surely, he had won over every person around him. She, her father, the guards, the servants, everyone trusted him.

The details of his background stayed hazy, but what he had told them was not a complete lie. He was from Italy, and in fact, he was sent there to learn from the triads. He was in fact employed by a fearsome mafia famiglia, and was sent on a mission to destroy her father's empire. Triads were messy competition in the drug and human trafficking business, and eliminating them was a difficult task. The Vongola needed not only the assassination of the leaders, but also knowledge of Hong Kong's ins and outs. They had sent its strongest guardian, for they knew the strongest member of their famiglia would stop at nothing to achieve their goal.

He pretended for months to be something he knew that he was definitely not. He paid a drug addict on the street to take a gun and shoot him, of course, making sure that the wound was not fatal. He dragged himself into their home, getting in place where he knew she would find him. The mission was laborious and tedious, and he was starting to regret even taking the assignment.

He had pretended for months to be someone that she would fall in love with, to compel her and then use her to his advantage. He exploited her blind devotion to him. He had her wound around his finger, and less than a year after their initial encounter, he struck.

The day began like any other, he had gotten up next to her, gotten dressed, and kissed her goodbye. But instead of heading to the meeting with papers in hand, he came with a loaded gun. No one even had the chance to so much give him a questioning look before he shot them between the eyes. He had gotten the information that the Vongola needed, and was ready to finalize the operation at last.

Everything panned out according to plan, and all without a hitch. Minimal complications were made, the few who might have crossed his path on the way out were unfortunate collateral.

He retrieved the little possessions he kept, and was ready to leave on the next flight to Sicily. He didn't intend on sticking around to see her reaction, or even say goodbye. He was walking out of the door, when he heard her voice.

He turned around, and his instinctively shot up with his pistol pointed inches from her head. He should have just shot her without looking, but he had foolishly opened toward her, locking eyes with hers. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. It wasn't like he had a problem killing someone he knew, he had done it countless times before.

As he gazed into her shocked face, he was hit with realization.

The problem didn't lie with killing a person familiar to him, it was that he couldn't murder the single person he had come to love.

Courting the enemy was something he himself had frowned upon. Bring feelings into a mission only set things up to end in failure. He was careful in his actions, sure that he would never develop any type of true affections for the woman he was cruelly playing.

He may have conjured up a fake identity and personality, but the feelings that he had for her type that he had acted out, but instead it was far more possessive and sinister. The thought of leaving her there in Hong Kong for another man drove him mad. Killing her would have taken that possibility out of the equation, but still, he couldn't move his hand.

In that moment, she had appeared so distressed, so angry, so betrayed, so hurt. It made his heart ache to see her in such a condition, but even more so, it excited him. It was a rush of passion to finally let her know who he really was, to make her aware of the man under the mask. He gritted his teeth in frustration at his inability to thoroughly carry out his assignment.

She was crying when he lowered his gun. She jumped when he slammed his fist into the wall next to them.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn't want to hear any of it. He shot her. Her scream echoed throughout the entire city.

He was supposed to depart immediately after the killings were accomplished. He was supposed to leave her, dead or alive, it wasn't supposed to matter.

He stood over her body, his blood rushing through his veins as he watched hers pour over the ground. She had taken the bullet to her side, he took a moment to admire the irony that he had been shot in the same place when she had found him. He took a step closer, finding that she had passed out, but still breathing.

He sighed, knowing he was very well going to regret his actions later. He kneeled down next to her, sweeping the unconscious girl into his arms. He rose, keeping her close to his own chest.

The famiglia was going to hold a hell of meeting when he got back. Bringing the daughter of their now dead rival, who would most likely be unwilling to stay. Just thinking about the crowd that would gather was already making his head hurt. They would have to deal with it, and if they wanted to challenge his decision, they could take it up with him in battle.

He was selfish, and he knew it. Taking her back with him was going to do nothing in her hatred towards him. He understood that she loved him, but she had only loved the person he had forced out. He was going to make her love him, the real him. Her contempt would fade, and her affections for him would grow, he was sure of it.

**End**

A/N: Like I said before, it's still a little experiment with this couple. I had this idea in my head, and was debating whether or not I wanted Kyoya as the lead. I guess he and Mukuro were the only ones who could have pulled off something this dark. If it's unclear, the plot is basically that Hibari was sent by the Vongola to infiltrate the triads in Hong Kong. And in order to do so, he needed to trick Haru and the others around them into trusting her, ultimately making her fall in love with him. Sucks for him because he actually falls in love with her, and he's taking her back to Italy with him...

So tell me what you think, maybe going to add to this, but ehh.. REVIEW PLEASE. I've always been unsure of HibaHaru :) thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's chapter 2, it took a while, but here it is :) please review and enjoy! I'm a little sad that I only have one review, but i hope that the more I post, the more readers will review? Does that logic make sense? Anyways, just an unrelated sidenote, when I stop getting reviews, I tend to get a little bored with stories (I just feel like if no one is reading them, then why bother) so check out my other stories and tell me what you think of them as well. I'm thinking of putting "Living Pains" and "Planned" on hold...

**Chapter 2**

Her senses were completely disoriented when she woke up. Her head pounding, the blood rushing through, the brightness of the room temporarily blinding her as she opened her eyes. A pain shot through her core as she rolled on it trying to turn over onto her side.

She blinked a couple of times before her vision cleared and she could make her out her surroundings. She was sleeping on a bed, large, fairly high off the ground. The room was spacious, with very few pieces of furniture sitting in it. She struggled to sit up, only to be stopped by the growing ache in her head. She wrapped her arms protectively around her face. Her arm made contact with something cold, she fingered the object with curiosity.

It was metal, a ring. Her eyebrows furrowed with confusions, as she brought her right hand in front of her face to see what it was. Her assumptions were correct, it was a ring. She didn't recognize the piece of jewelry, its design completely foreign to her. The band was simple and thin, made up of a silver material, the centerpiece had no gem, but instead an oval metal plaque. It didn't look very extravagant, but it was definitely elegant, it gave an air of sophistication she was unaware of. Engraved onto the plaque, was a cloud, with letters 'V.'' under it. It was a small accessory. Knowing that this trinket didn't belong to her, she attempted to pull it off of her finger.

It didn't budge; the ring had fit so snugly around her finger that it didn't cut off her circulation of cause her any discomfort, but showed no signs of ever falling off of her hand.

"It won't come off like that,"

Realizing that she wasn't alone, she whipped her head around to scan the room for company. It was a young girl, perhaps around the same age as she, with medium length dark blond hair. She was sitting in a chair placed directly next to the bed, it was strange that she hadn't noticed her presence before that.

Haru made another effort to sit up, this time ignoring the pain in her head, but distracted by the sensation on her left.

"Who are you?" Haru quietly questioned. The stranger next to her was smiling, it was warming, but still alarming. She needed to be careful, she had no idea where she was, or why she was there.

The last thing she had remembered was the chaos of the murder of her father and his closest associates. There was a rumor flying amongst people that it had been _him_ that had committed the killings. She had run down to the ground level to look for him, to prove everyone wrong, to make sure that everyone was simply spouting arbitrary and random lies. She had confronted him at the exit, he pointed a gun at her. Then everything went black, she had no recollection of anything that occurred after that.

She grabbed her side, realizing that he hadn't only directed the gun at her, but actually shot her. She was wearing clothing on top, but she could still feel the bandages wrapped around her torso. Nothing was making sense anymore, she had tried to sort out exactly what motivations he had for hurting her. She couldn't explain why he had acted the way he did, it was really the polar opposite of the man she knew.

A delicate hand came to hold hers in place. It belonged to the girl in the room with her. "You don't need to panic, I'm here to help you," her voice was calming, soothing. Haru had begun to tremble slightly, and the girl started to stroke her hand.

"Who are you?" she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. She didn't want to come off weak, no matter what she was really feeling, it was not the place nor the time to let herself be overcome with the jumbled mess of emotions racing in her mind.

"My name is Kyoko," she couldn't get over how nice her voice was. It was almost angelic. Before Haru could respond with another question, Kyoko interrupted, "And your name is Haru, Miura Haru,"

And at that, Haru abruptly tore her hand away from the other girl's grasp. How did this woman know her name? Most people in the triads only recognized her by face, her name was hidden from common people in order to assure her safety. Knowledge of her last name meant that this person knew of her father's mobster background. Now that she thought about it, why was she in this place, in this room, with this girl? What did she want with her? For what purpose, now that he father was gone, did they need her for?

"Don't be afraid, I'm not going to harm you," Haru stole another glance at the person in front of her, sitting in a ladylike manner, with her legs swept towards one side of the chair, her hands folded in her lap. Haru refused to say anything back, she didn't want to blurt anything out that might have compromised her security.

She took another moment to further examine the situation she was in. Her eyes had fully recovered from the sudden lightness of the room, and she could tell that it was daytime. The rich red colored curtains had been pulled back allowing natural sunshine to enter. She was dressed in a rather skimpy outfit. If anything, she would have considered it innerwear, something she would wear underneath regular clothing. She was bearing all, the majority of her skin left out in the open, a good portion of her chest visible, string like straps around her shoulders, and though a blanket was covering her legs, she could tell that the nightgown barely went past her bottom.

The girl giggled as Haru tried to pull the comforter over her upper half, in attempts to make herself more decent. "There's no need to do that, I'm the one person out of the two that have seen you like this," she quickly moved on, "I'm here to explain to the current circumstances you're in, and to give you a little bit of insight into the life that's to come," her eyes grew more serious as she continued, "and if you have any questions while I'm talking, feel free to ask,"

Haru gave a slight nod, still unsure of this girl's real identity and motives.

"I know it'll be hard to accept the truth and realities of what I'm going to say, but please, understand that nothing can be done to change it," the look that she had in her eyes made Haru afraid, they seemed to apologize for the information that was coming. "You're father is dead. All of his comrades and allies along with him. The Vongola family is responsible for their demise, and it was a preempted strike that had been planned for months, "The brazen boldness of her statement had shocked her. But the point that she had made was crystal clear, she guessed there might not have been an actual way to sugar coat things.

"You were supposed to die with them, but some complications had come up with the agent that was sent to accomplish this mission," she paused, examining Haru's expression. She was trying to digest everything calmly, but her feelings were getting the best of her. But she was determined to hear the entire story, bunching the material of the blanket in her fist as she let the girl go on, "I'm sure you know this agent, Hibari Kyoya,"

Haru could almost hear the shatter of her heart as his name was said. Hibari Kyoya. Hibari Kyoya. _Hibrari Kyoya._ How could she forget? She was finally letting it sink in, he had been plotting against her, against her father, for a mission. He wasn't working for her father; he was working to destroy them.

"For reasons he has failed to identify to anyone, has spared your life, and brought you back here," Kyoko concluded, hoping that the girl sitting on the bed was all right with everything that had been pointed out.

"Hibari Kyoya?"

"Yes," Kyoko was a little skeptical at what she was getting at.

"Tell me everything about him," Haru hesitated to ask, but she needed to know. Who was he really? Did she even know the real him?

Kyoko eyed her uncomfortably, but felt obliged to answer, "To be honest, I don't really know too much about him, he's a closed book to everyone. What I can tell you is simply that he is the Cloud Guardian of the Vongola Mafia,"

"The Vongola?" she had heard the word used numerous times in the past conversation, but she never really understood its meaning.

"Yes, the Vongola, we are the mafia," Haru's eyes widened. The mafia, she had read about them in one of the books she found her father's study. It was sort of like the European equivalent of a triad. But from whatever she could tell, they must have been more calculative and deadly than her father's gang, for they had taken them out in one fatal and effective swoop.

"You're part of Vongola?" Haru's voice was softer than before.

"Yes," Kyoko held up her hand to show it to Haru. She was now standing by the bed, only inches away from Haru. "And you are too," she almost shoved her finger in front of her face, showing her the ring that was sitting on her own finger.

Haru couldn't find the voice, or even the words to respond. It was almost laughable, her, part of the mafia? Of the organization that had murdered her father, her only living family? There was simply no way, she never agreed to join anything. But when she saw the ring on Kyoko's finger, it made her lose track of all thoughts. The ring on her finger greatly resembled the one that she had been examining earlier, with the same band, same shaped center, only with a different design and different letters carved in it. She was beginning to question the piece of jewelry, and frantically started pulling at it, trying to remove it from her hand.

"Stop, I already told you, it won't come off like that,"

She ceased her tugging, and tried to calm herself. She wouldn't allow herself to go crazy like this, so what if she had a crazy ring on her hand? She would just live with it and bear wearing it until she figured out how to remove it.

"This is your mark," she was referring to the ring, "It identifies you as one of us, so people know who you are," Kyoko sat down on the edge of the bed, "Look at the letters on mine, the first 'V' stands for what famiglia you are part of, and the next stands for what generation we are, and then the last numbers signify what number you belong with,"

"The number I belong with?" Haru said it more for herself than for to be answered by Kyoko.

"I have XXVII, or twenty seven. Rule of thumb, the lower your number is, the higher rank you possess. Anything below one hundred gets more complicated, it isn't about ranking more so the various different types of fighting you have or what sector you are in charge of,"

"So why do I have a ring? Or a number at all?"

Kyoko didn't really know if she should go in detail of how she had the ring, she didn't want to overwhelm or intimidate her new friend with so much all at once. But she would find out sooner or later, and waiting would only make it worse. "The reason you have a ring isn't due to your own merit, but because of your—" she stopped to think of a milder way to put it, "Your partner,"

"My partner?"

"Yes, Hibari Kyoya is the one who possesses the rank eighteen, and therefore it has been transferred to you," Kyoko didn't dare stop talking to look at the face Haru was making, "And my partner," the word didn't really fit the circumstances, but it did the job, "Tsuna, has the ranking twenty-seven, I don't really have a place in the mafia hierarchy either…"

Haru ceased listening after his name was brought up the second time.

"And who's to say that I even want this thing? I never agreed to something like this?" she shifted away from Kyoko as much as her wound would allow her, and started pulling at the ring again. She couldn't help but think that the single piece of jewelry was responsible for the predicament she had found herself in.

"Please, this ring has been made for you, especially for you, its components dictate that you can't take it off on your own volition. Only the person who bestows the ring can take it away and—" The talking as Kyoko suddenly froze, unable to make another move.

Haru also stopped struggling, as she looked to the other girl with concern. "Are you all right? What's wrong?" she reached over to tap her shoulder, in case she hadn't been paying attention to her. But then a voice interrupted them.

The sound of it was familiar, but at the same time, its tone completely different. It was as deep and sultry as it had always been, but this time it was darker, more aggressive. The baritone chuckle was more than enough to make Haru forget about the person in front of her, and concentrate on the one that had appeared in the doorway across the room. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

She had grown accustomed to seeing him dressed in casual attire, what most young people had been dressing in Hong Kong. Simple items, like shirts, and slacks. His new appearance shocked her, as it made huge contrast with his old one. His outfit screamed formal, a full on suit and tie. She would have thought he looked handsome, if she hadn't been so filled with rage and terror at the moment. His cheerful expression was now distant and cold.

"Thank you for your help, you may leave now," he had directed his words to Kyoko, but his eyes had locked onto Haru's, stubbornly keeping his gaze there without faltering.

Kyoko jumped off of the bed, smoothed her skirt down, and hastily made her way to the exit. She gave a deep bow to him before making taking her leave, and as she closed the door, she seemed to give Haru a last pitying and solemn expression.

The door clicked shut, and she was now left alone with him. He strode toward her slowly; every step almost like a stab to her heart. Haru was completely consumed by her growing fear. As the distance between them began to close, she threw the covers off of her, and jumped off of the bed in the opposite direction that he had come. She grabbed the only thing off of the vanity that she could find, a glass vase. She pointed it threateningly at him, hoping that it would deter him from coming near her. Her efforts ended up futile.

The maniacal smirk on his face told her he was enjoying her anxiety.

"Don't come near me," she warned him with the deadliest glare she could muster, but it clearly wasn't enough to scare him off.

He persisted on in his advancements, completely unaffected by her threats. He paced to the windows, shutting the curtains, making the room dark. As he took a step forward, she would take one back, trying to keep a moderate gap between them. This went on until the heel of her foot hit the wall behind her, she couldn't move further away. He had her cornered in on one side, she had nowhere else to run.

Her eyes never left his as he got closer. She took the vase and held it at arms length, trying to fend him off. He leaned in closer, only pushing the object closer to her body, she retreated into the wall, scrunching her body, cowering in fright.

In the simplest sense, he was bigger than her. He had nearly twelve inches on her, his shoulders were broader, his size gave him the biggest advantage in this situation. He towered over her, easing nearer and nearer until his right elbow was leaning on the wall next to her head. When she tried to raise the vase to hit him, he easily overpowered her, grabbing her wrist, forcing her to discard the item, only to have it shatter on the floor below them.

She violently pushed his clasp on her arm off, and made two fists, hoping to at least injure him so that she could get away. She had been trained in various martial arts skills, and she was skilled enough in them to earn different leveled belts. She was deemed competent from her teachers, and was thought to be able to defend herself if needed. But this time had been completely different. Before she could even make contact with his chest, he had grabbed her arms with free hand and pinned her arms down above her head. He did so with the greatest ease, not wavering at all. She tried shoving him off one last time, but to no avail, she hung there with her legs swinging back and forth.

"Why so nervous, Haru?" it was only a whisper, but the sensation of his warm breath on her ear sent her over the edge. She stopped kicking, she was at last aware as to how close their bodies were to one another. Their past relationship was a romantic one, but they had never been physically intimate. They had shared a room, and a bed, but they never lain together in the way that most couples did. She was a firm believer in celibacy until marriage, and the man she had remembered had respected that. He never touched her, they had only kissed once before, and that was on the cheek.

"I see you like the ring," she felt his hand toy with her fourth finger. He found own comment amusing, she could feel his grin get bigger. He moved his head so his nose was almost touching hers. Sure that he was going to press his lips against hers, she shut her eyes tightly, waiting for it to come. But it never did, he surprisingly let her wrists go, backed away, and walked to the mini bar that was located on the other side of the room.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto to ground. She raised her head to see him pouring a glass of hard liquor. He mockingly held the bottle towards her, offering her a drink. He knew as well as anyone else that she had never tasted alcohol before in her life, she had never even been allowed to be in its presence when it was drank. He was busy scooping ice into his cup when she decided it was time to make her move.

She shot up to her feet and sprinted towards the door. Just as she reached for the door knob, the pain in her side escalated, and she fell back to the ground, writhing around in a crumpled mess. He did nothing but watch her as she laid there, slowly sipping his drink, savoring its flavor.

"You really shouldn't overexert yourself like that, you're seriously injured," his nonchalant comment had only confirmed what Haru didn't want to accept. This thing in front of her, it wasn't the man that she knew back home; if it was, he would have rushed to her side, helping her back up. It was an evil being, something that had only wished her harm.

"You," her voice shook, she couldn't see him clearly because of the darkness, but she could make out the lines and shape of his visage, "You shot me." There was no inflection at the end, it wasn't a question, just a statement that she needed established. He said nothing, he only raised his glass to his lips to take another sip, "You shot father," he showed no reaction, "You _killed_ father,"

"Yes," his reply was so terse that it lacked humanity. How could someone admit something as gruesome as that, with no pity, no sadness in his voice?

"You killed everyone," the lump in her throat had multiplied in size, it was becoming more difficult for her to speak, "You were going to kill me." Even though she swallowed, her voice had gone dry.

"But I didn't," Haru was incredulous, as if he had rectified his crimes by sparing her life, even though he had put a bullet in her. The soft clink of the cup as he set it down on the wooden table of the bar rang loudly in her ears.

"You tricked me," she ignored her throat this time, the suppressed anger and frustration was beginning to come out, "You lied to me. You planned to do this from the start, you planned all of it," she refused to let the stinging tears in her eyes escape, she didn't dare blink, "You were going to leave me, and everyone else for dead," she felt as if she couldn't breathe, but she let the words continue to fly out, "You made me fall in love with you,"

"You love me," he was teasing her, trying to make it into some kind of twisted joke.

"_Who are you?"_ it was a stupid question, she knew the answer. The details weren't very important, she knew that he wasn't the person she once knew, he was Hibari Kyoya, mafia guardian, loyal only to the Vongola.

"You know who I am. We met nearly a year ago," he was pushing his luck if he thought that she would find it comical. He started to walk towards her again. He bent down, and kneeled next to her. His hand went to her face, gently cupping her cheek. She slapped his touch away and crawled away from him, only to press on her bandages on her torso. She hissed in pain.

He let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. He got up and approached her one more time, not waiting for her to say anything, effortlessly picked her body up in his arms, and carried her over to the bed. He sat her down, her back facing the oak headboard. "If you keep moving, you're only going to make the wound even worse" he placed his hand on her stomach where the bandages sat, but she pushed him away.

"Don't touch me!" she used her hands to create a gap in between them, she scooted further back. He was clearly displeased with her reaction. In less than a second, he was on top of her. This time his hands were on the top of the headboard, his knees on either sides of her hips, his forehead tilted down so it met hers. She turned her head to the side to avoid his gaze, but he roughly took her chin to force her to look at him.

"Listen carefully," the venom in his voice could not have gone undetected, "I am your _only_ lifeline out here, you're not the little girl back in Hong Kong with people around to protect you. You're in uncharted territory, and I am the one you answer to now. Show some respect," he spat the words so callously.

She wanted to let the tears flow down her cheeks, but she was adamant in stopping them. She stared fiercely into his eyes, she had to admit she was scared. She could tell that she was shaking furiously, but she didn't care. She wasn't going to give in to his intimidation. She bit her lip to make it stop from quivering.

Satisfied with her reaction, he got up and off the bed. It made his adrenaline rush to see her like this, he had finally revealed his true self, and it was thrilling for him. She might have been afraid, but he was ecstatic. He tugged at his own tie, loosening it.

"Good," he walked towards the door he had come in, "I'll be back for dinner," he opened the door, grinning to show his sharp, gleaming, canine like teeth. "Behave yourself until then," the door slammed shut. The room was left with an opened bottle of vodka, a shattered vase on the floor, and a crying woman, hugging herself, trying to calm her nerves.

She needed to escape from this hell. She had no idea how, she didn't even know where she was. She just needed to get out. This monster was something she couldn't have even conjured up in her greatest nightmares. She made up her mind. She was going to leave, and she was going to make it happen soon. It didn't matter what kind of things would happen to her on the outside, as long as she was away from him.

**End Chapter 2**

A/N: Still in the midst of editing, this was rushed so it might have some grammatical errors. I'll fix them in time, I just wanted to post as soon as I finished writing (It's just a habit I have). So how did you like it? I know, Hibari's a little sadistic, kind of scary, but isn't that all part of his character's charm? This won't be like "Betrayal" in the way that I tell more of their history, I'm pretty sure that this will mostly be told in the present. That being said, I hope it won't be as confusing. REVIEWS PLEASE! ANONYMOUS REVIEWS ARE WELCOME TOO! Hope you liked it! Thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Ughhh okay so some minor dilemmas in writing this particular fic. I've wrote this chapter a couple of times, and I'm not really sure what to make of it. I shall discuss my concerns at the A/N at the end because I don't want to potentially spoil anything. Anyways, enjoy! :)

**Chapter 3**

She sat on the bed, she didn't move an inch after he had left her there. The temperature had dropped dramatically. She wiggled all of her toes and fingers, finding that it was difficult to even feel them. She looked around the room, completely at loss with what she should do. What could she do? If she walked out of the door right then, what would happen? Would there be guards outside waiting for her? Was the door open, could she even get out? Could she even make it to the door with her wound?

The headache that kept pounding her head in had only progressed, and the throbbing was unbearable. The tears in her eyes had dried quickly, it was uncharacteristic of her to weep. From as long as she could remember, she had trained herself not to cry, even when no one was watching; for her father had taught her that tears were only a sign of weakness and showcased one's vulnerability. This habit had been broken several times in the last couple of days.

She broke out in sobs when she discovered the corpses of her loved ones in the hallways, in the meeting room, she let the water run from her eyes as she found him walking out, and she had cried just now when she found out that she hadn't been killed, but brought to Italy.

Hands shaking, she swung her legs off of the side of the bed. It was particularly high off the ground, and she had to jump a little just to get off. She examined her surroundings; remnants of his visit were still present. Her eyes scanned the room as something caught her eye: the mini bar.

She needed to calm her nerves, the fact that she had cried in front of him alone had brought her on the verge of hysterics. She never tried alcohol before, but it was no secret that consuming these types of beverages would loosen her up. She made her way to the other side of the room, careful to avoid the shards of broken class from the shattered vase on the floor.

Hesitating at first, but willing to take action, she poured the golden brown liquid into the cup that had already been set out. He had been drinking out of it earlier, the ice had slightly melted. With a trembling hand, she brought the rim of the cup to her lips. She forced the bitter liquid down her throat all at once, immediately regretting it as she swallowed. Her gag reflex had kicked in and she started coughing up a storm. She sloppily set the now empty glass down back down, and grabbed onto the corner of the table to steady herself as she tried to catch her breath.

It had taken a moment to sink in, but the liquor somehow had a relaxing effect on her. It had taken the edge off of her stress and the pain in her head had begun to dull. She sunk back down to the floor, her back to the base of the table. She was breathing heavily, and with her head pointed down, she watched her chest slowly rise and then come back down. And while the drink had helped her calm down, it did nothing for the biting air that was causing her fingers to turn blue.

With almost nothing else going on her mind, she hoisted herself up and began exploring the space around her. It felt so empty, such a large amount of room for only a couple of items. Wobbling every step of the way, she came to the dresser. It was large in size, maybe three or four feet in length, nearly taller than her in height. Her fingers traced along its body, the small but intricate details formed along its edges. Nothing sat on top of it, so she decided to open the drawers to see if anything was inside.

She knew nothing of the new Hibari, and maybe some snooping would give her a bit more insight into his life. She began with the top drawer. She grabbed onto the knob and jerked it open. She stood on her toes and peered inside; it was completely empty. Not trusting her eyes, she took a lazy hand, and started to feel around. The result confirmed what she saw, and she moved onto the next drawer. She worked her way down, only to with the same outcome. She slammed the third drawer shut in frustration.

Then she realized something that outlined her carelessness. The two of them had shared a room before, so she had unconsciously assumed that they were sharing one now. This space was intended for her, and her only. This wasn't a room that belonged to both of them. No wonder it was all so simple, so bare. There wasn't anything inside of the room because it for a person who had just arrived.

Knowing that she would likely find nothing in the fourth and last drawer, she still continued on in opening it. At first it looked to be just like the others, but when she took a second glance, she saw it. It surprised her more than she expected. It was pushed to the corner of the drawer, almost as if it was supposed to be hidden. Like she had done before, she reached inside to pick it up.

It was a picture frame. A simple one, rectangular with a solid, golden border. She thought that she was imagining things, there was no way that he would have brought it back with him. The frame held something that was irreplaceable, something that she personally held much sentiment with. Her prized possession, she would never willingly leave it behind. She was sitting on the ground now, her legs tucked under her, her knees parallel in the floor. She held the picture in her lap, still in a great state of disbelief.

The tears that she had taught herself never to let out, dropped onto the glass protecting the photograph. Her vision became blurred as they continued to well up in her eyes. It had been a childhood family portrait, one that was taken before her mother had passed away. Her mother was sitting in a chair, with her cradled in her arms, her father standing behind them with his hands on her shoulders. She was only a baby when it was taken. Her mother left the living world soon after it was printed, and it was the only proof that she had of her mother's existence. She studied the photo carefully, she knew every detail of it by heart. Her eyes landed on her father, his face stoic, serious, calm. He had never been a warm and loving parent who welcomed her in his arms, but she knew that he had always cared deeply for her.

A sharp pain shot through her body. This time it wasn't because of the wound to her side, but because of her heart. She realized at that moment that she hadn't allowed herself to properly grieve for her father's death. She hadn't let the feelings out, she had been so determined to keep them bottled up inside. The pressure in her chest had built up so much, that all of the pent up feelings were threatening to burst. As the first tears fell from her eyes, they were unleashed. Her sadness, her pain, misery, her anger, her rage came rushing forward.

She could no longer control them anymore. More and more tears had soaked the picture frame, and eventually she started to wail. It wasn't the muted, held back sobbing that she had exhibited earlier, but full blast screams. She didn't care if the entire world heard her, she had been hurting for too long.

Her entire world, her way of life, was all gone in a flash. There was nothing she could do about it. Her loved ones were either dead or miles away. She knew that no one would be able to find her, she knew that no one was even looking for her. She was held prisoner by a man who had betrayed her in the most cardinal way possible.

Shortly after her sobbing fit had started, the noises stopped. The tears were still flowing with no signs of discontinuing, but the screaming, the wailing, the whimpering, were silenced. No sounds left her throat anymore, her mouth was open, but nothing came out. Her throat had closed up, and she could barely breathe.

She curled onto the floor in fetal position, and began to rock herself back in forth. Her eyes had gotten so swollen that it hurt to keep them open, so she closed her eyes, shutting in all of her tears. She hugged the picture frame to her chest, her body had gone completely numb. She let herself be pulled into the darkness as it all went black. She fell into a deep and painful slumber, she didn't know if she ever wanted to wake up.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She woke up for the second time that day feeling worse than she had the first time. This time, however, she wasn't cold, she was warm. She twisted further to her right. She wasn't fully awake, but she could tell that she wasn't on the ground anymore. Actually, instead of lying on the ground, she felt something around her, enveloping her. Her eyes were still closed, but she knew that she was moving; the motion and resistance were far too great to be hers, they were from someone else.

She jerked awake, her eyes flew open, and her arms started flailing. She realized that she was being carried, and it didn't take her very long to decipher who was holding her. She was too tired, and too beat up to resist him. She was beginning to relax in his arms, she let her eyelids fall down again.

He set her down on the bed, carefully tucking her under the covers. When he had come in, he had found her sprawled across the ground in one corner of the room. He hated admitting it, but the sight of it tugged on his heartstrings. He could tell that she was in a great deal of emotional, psychological, and physical stress.

Being the highest ranked assassin in the Vongola had taught him many things, and one of them was how to assess a situation the moment you come into one. He saw the half empty bottle of vodka he had left on the bar, the opened drawer, the picture frame, and the fallen woman at the foot of the dresser. He had walked into the room, and sat down next to her. With one look, he knew that she had been crying. Evidence was literally all over her face, the streams of dried tears down her complexion, her puffed up eyes, the drops of water on her clothes.

When they made physical contact, her skin was icy to the touch. The room was a comfortable temperature for him, it puzzled him the cause of this setback. Nonetheless, he knew that he needed to warm her up quickly, she was dangerously cold. After leaving her in bed, he made his way into the bathroom, and came back with a warm towel. He folded it neatly, and placed it on her forehead.

He looked at her face, and it gave him worrying effect. Her lips were turning a dark shade of purplish blue. He decided that it wasn't a small matter that could have been fixed with a simply wet towel, so he stood up, on his way to find that damned Shamal to cure her.

But as he got up, a small freezing hand caught onto his. His gaze shot back down to her. Her eyes were still closed, but she was awake.

"_Don't go,"_

She didn't know why, but she didn't like the idea of him leaving her.

He narrowed his eyes. This was certainly a change in the tides that she had shown him earlier. She had been screaming at him not to touch her, to get away, but now she was begging him to stay. He bent over her, whispering softly into her ear.

"I'm going to get the doctor,"

He was warm. He moved away to leave again, but she didn't let go of his hand. She tightened her grip.

"No," her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her.

She was broken beyond belief. She was ashamed of herself for asking him to remain by her side. But through all of the sins he had committed, he was the only person she had left. She had no one else, granted he was the cause for it all, but she couldn't help but continue on loving him. He had committed the grandest of sins, he had ruined her, but none of it mattered. Her mother, then her father, she couldn't lose anyone else. Even if he was dishonest, if it was all a ruse, she needed him to be there. She couldn't continue on without him, he was one of the most important people that she had ever let into her heart.

Yes, she wanted to hate him, despise him. But the fact remained, they had history. It might have been fake, but it had been real to her.

He waited a moment. He felt her tiny fingers desperately hold onto him. He should have never brought her here in the first place. He should have finished his business and eliminated her along with the other enemies. It should have all been just a game, to make her bend to his will. He should have remained distant and shut his own feelings out.

"Okay, I'll stay," he leaned in once more, and placed a light kiss on her cheek. Her grasp on his hand had softened, but it was still steady. He pulled in a chair next to the bed, circumspect not to make her stretch her arm as he did so.

He should've left to get someone to treat her, but he didn't. He had done so much wrong up till now. So why should he start doing things he should have done now?

He stared at her face. It belonged to someone that he would never be rid of, at least not in his heart. Turned out that the joke had been on him the entire time, and not her. As much as he hated it, and as much as he shouldn't have, Hibari did love her. God have mercy on his soul, because there was nothing anybody could do about it now.

**End Chapter 3**

A/N: Ahhhhh! All right if Hibari was ooc before, then both he and Haru are waaayyy out there now. So Haru finds the family portrait which, yes, Hibari did bring back with them. He knew it was important, that part wasn't really included in thie part...She has conflicting feelings about if she should hate Hibari or love him. He's all she has left, and even though he's responsible for that, she still can't help it. Oh the angst in this one :(

Thanks for reading and the reviews! Tell me what you like and what you don't like! I'm thinking of a love-triangle with either Yamamoto or Mukuro, any preference?


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Um, wrote this chapter in a couple of sittings, so i hope it flows well. Give me your criticisms! I'm really happy to know that people are actually reading this, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Chapter 4**

She was too afraid.

She didn't let go of his hand, she couldn't fall asleep. If she did either, he would leave, she was sure of it. He would have walked out and never come back.

She never had this fear before, this disease that had manifested its way deep into her head. She preferred not to get attached to those she knew wouldn't be around for long. It was just that she wasn't expecting her father or powerful to be so easily eliminated. So even though Hibari had been rumored to be the strongest of the mafia guardians, he could just as easily disappear from her life. She refused to risk any of it.

He knew her too well, he could tell she wasn't really sleeping, pretend as she might. He switched back and forth from staring at her face, to her hand. She was delicate, like a doll. Her stubborn hand never released his, he had set it on her chest in hopes of making her more comfortable.

He looked at their hands again, the ring on her finger. It wasn't originally his idea, but it was a necessary measure to ensure that she wouldn't be able to run away. Most women connected to the Vongola possessed these rings, and were essentially something dog-tags on a pet. Just like when an animal escapes, someone reads the name and address on its collar, and returns it back to its owner, when a woman leaves without permission, someone will see the ring, and return her back to the Vongola. Locals feared the mafia, and if they were smart, wouldn't aid someone in deserting.

He could only hope that it would never come to someone needing to return her to him. He knew it was probably inevitable, that she would try to leave, to escape. He was Lucifer and she was an innocent woman, she didn't love him, not the way she had before. She was scared of him, he knew by the way she looked at him. She always put on a front, but it was useless in front of him.

He wasn't keeping track of how much time had passed, but eventually he was becoming bored with the situation. They both were aware of how awake she was, and he found it a waste of time for them to stay like this. Part of him wanted to rip his hand away, and force her to get up, while another just wanted to sit there and treasure the moment.

He moved his free hand to skim the outline of her jaw, but slowly retracted. Guilt was penetrating the deepest wells of his being. This was who he was, a killer, a murderer, the devil. He had no regard for life, it was something he could take away without so much as lifting a finger. Would touching her harm her? Would she die? She had been through so much already, he knew she was on the brink of her limit.

While he was still battling the thoughts in his head, he realized that she was moving, her eyes had finally opened.

She instinctively smiled as his face appeared in front of her. Whenever she found her next to him she could be happy. But the tables turned, as she realized that was no longer the case. The gleam of happiness swiftly turned to fear. Her hand pulled away from his, she moved to sit up.

A flash of frustration crossed his face. He was angry. Though only for a second, she had looked at him like she had done before when they were together. He wanted her to see him like that again.

In response to her movements, he simply pulled back, and placed both hands in his lap, his elbows resting on his knees. His head was tilted down, but it didn't hide the mischievously seductive grin that graced his features. He had taken off his jacket, now clad in a white shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, his black tie hanging from his neck.

She couldn't look at him, not directly. She didn't know whether she wanted his arms wrapped around her or if she wanted to slap him across the face.

He was every bit as torn as she was. He scanned her now awakened face, puckered red lips, lazy lidded eyes, big dewy brown eyes, and disheveled locks falling on her shoulders. When she got up, the comforters slid down her torso. He pressed his own lips together as his line of vision trailed down her neck to her collarbone, to her bosom.

He never had the opportunity to touch her, she was more a virgin than Mary herself. She was raised like a nun, surrounded by female caretakers, forbidden from the presence of any man besides her father. He was the sole male that had even graced her being. It was a shame too, Haru was a beautiful woman.

The possibilities running through his mind spiked thrill in him. How nice her hair would feel through his fingers, how smooth her skin paled skin would react to his touch, how kissable her lips would be. Prior to their first encounter, he had been with countless women. He took pride in his status as a womanizer, the girls went crazy for him. He longed for her to do the same. The ridiculous cover he needed to uphold no longer applied, and he was free to do whatever he pleased.

His demeanor frightened her. It was too new, too foreign from what she was used to. His gaze made her uncomfortable. His eyes were piercing, sharp, like a hawk's. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him lick him lips before pushing his lips together again.

She was inexperienced, but that didn't mean she was oblivious to the mannerisms of men. She had overheard her maids gossiping, telling each other repulsive bedroom stories. She knew all about the traditional roles and actions between men and women, the desires that they had, and how they would fill them. Up until now she never felt that it even slightly concerned her.

But in that moment, as his eyes tore her piece by piece, she became painfully aware of how much it applied to her. She had realized just as he did, that he could do what he pleased with her, and with no repercussions. She was no longer protected under the umbrella of her status.

"Feeling better?" his voice was sly, dripping with sarcasm, it was lower than she remembered. She still didn't look at him, her head softly turned in the opposite direction. "I believe I told you to behave, didn't I?" it was more authoritative now.

She moved to face him, only to find him mere inches away from her. She swallowed hard when the back of her head touched the headboard behind it. He was effortlessly leaning in, enjoying the view, watching her squirm.

She watched his smile grow, showing off his sharp white fangs. She couldn't find the courage to respond.

"And yet I come back, and I find you wasted out of your right mind," her eyes rolled over to the scattered glasses and bottles of alcohol sitting at the mini bar, "The furniture rummaged through," the drawers had been hanging open, just as she left them, "and my property stolen,"

The last part made her think a little. His property? She sobered up enough to remember the picture frame. He neck snapped in different directions, the photo, she had been holding it, but it was no longer in her arms. She was able to relax when she found it standing on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Now you're a lady of manners, we both know you understand how impolite it is to take someone else's things," he was making fun of her. He was implying that the photo was his, when he knew very well that it was something she would never give up.

He lost the inner battle of self restraint as he took some of her brunette hair into his hand, stroking it from the top of her scalp, sliding it down to the ends by her waist. She couldn't breathe, she held in the air as he made contact.

"I remember you liking it when the help would brush your hair before you went to sleep." His head was now placed so that his lips were next to her ear. "Do you like it when I brush it for you?"

She wanted to brush him off, but no matter how much she hated to admit it, she _did_ like it. He had always been cautious never to touch her in a way that would alarm her, and the feeling she got when he played with her hair. The sensation was so unusual that it made her shiver with excitement.

Before she let the feeling get the better of her, she pushed her hair behind her ear, removing it from his grasp. Though her own body was reluctant, she shoved him away with as much strength as she could muster. She was undecided about how she felt about him as a person, but she was sure she didn't want to commit in such intimate interaction with a man.

He laughed at her reaction, she was such an open book. "You do," he leaned back in, her hands on his chest that had pushed him away were now idly resting in place, "I know you do,"

Haru was freezing before, but she swore she was burning up a fever right about now.

"Get away from me," she spat with all of the meanness that she could utter. She was more successful in escaping his hold this time, ducking under the arms that had trapped her in, and rolling off of the bed. She landed on her back, the wind knocked out of her as she took a sharp intake of air, she had forgotten about her wound. It wasn't the wisest move to make, but at the very least, she was away from his clutches.

From the ground, she could see his feet under the bed, making his way around its perimeter. She pushed off of her elbow to get up, hopefully fast enough before he would get to her.

She had to remind herself of who this man was. She had allowed herself to think of him as the person she had fallen in love with, when in truth it was a sadistic murderer. She wouldn't make another mistake like that again. She was in a time of crisis, and clung to him for comfort. She wouldn't let him manipulate her in the way that he had done before, she was smarter than that.

By the time he had approached her, she had already scrambled to her feet, she stood up, with her chin held high. Her arm was grabbing her side as she rose, her physical pain had been numbed by the alcohol and cold air, but it was a wound stubborn enough to make her aware of it with every move she made.

"Why did you bring me here?" her voice was dry, it hurt to speak.

He was bewildered for a second, not knowing how to respond. He wasn't sure that he knew the answer himself. One moment he had been standing over her body, gun in hand, ready to shoot. But the next, carrying her in his arms into a plane back to his homeland. If the answer didn't make sense to him, it would be just as inscrutable to her.

It angered him that he didn't know, and it enraged him that she wanted to know. In an instant, his temper took over, and he pinned her to the bed by the shoulders. Both of their legs still planted on the floor, her backside pressed to the edge of the mattress, him glowering over her.

She didn't give the satisfaction of cowering; she locked her eyes with his, refusing to let go.

He looked like he was going to open his mouth, but both of their thoughts were interrupted.

A loud, hollow knock made contact with the door furthest away from them. Clearly annoyed with the recent disturbance, Hibari growled and ordered for the poor soul behind the door to leave immediately.

The person's voice was muffled, unclear, "Sir, preparation for dinner has ended, and mandatory attendance is requested," a pause as they cleared their throat, "The first course will be served in twenty minutes,"

Hibari got up, letting his captive free. He pulled at his collar as he glared daggers at the direction the voice was coming from. Whoever it was, they were lucky they couldn't see, for they would have come to serious injury if they could. "Understood, now leave." He obviously didn't like company.

The nerve, the gall that his boss possessed astounded him to no end. The formal setting for a meal meant pointless gathering, socializing, and chattering. Normally, no one would dare approach, nevermind invite him to come to dinner. It was a mutual understand with all the Vongola that the man didn't appreciate a crowded room with no purpose. The only person that could even make Hibari consider the proposition was no other than the Decimo himself, and even he always had a reason to ask of such a favor.

The particular reasons why tonight, his attendance had been _requested_, were his recent deeds in the Asian Continent. Rumors had spread like wildfire the second that he stepped foot in Sicily that he hadn't returned alone. Bringing back the spawn of their enemy wasn't a generic act that many people survived. Most would have their heads served on platters for taboo like that, but Hibari's friendship with the Decimo had exempted him from such treatment.

His boss wanted to see her for himself, the woman that had made his companion act so out of character. It left people in shock when they found out that he had brought home a woman, and an attractive one at that. Theories of their relationship sprang up, but none had been confirmed.

It wasn't like Hibari even had the choice of refusing his invitation, it would have been considered some light form of insubordination. And even though the cloud guardian could take the heat, he knew better. His actions had been tolerated, and he shouldn't push his luck.

Frustrated beyond comprehension, he started pulling on his tie. "Get up, you need to get ready," he instructed. He didn't look at her as he walked across the room, picking a package up off the ground. He came back to Haru, still flustered and recovering from his previously aggressive actions. He handed her the box, not deep in depth, but large in surface area. "Clean yourself up, you'll want to make a good impression,"

He made his way back towards the exit, half turning as he opened the door, "I'll be back in twenty minutes," and before it clicked shut, "And I'm serious this time, behave," his commands made a chill run down her spine. It was a warning, definitely not an empty threat.

After he left, she threw the box onto the bed, letting it land with a soft thud. She was unsure of what he meant. She needed to get ready, to prepare. She didn't want to cross him, for fear of repeating what almost went down before. She didn't know how far he would go to torment her, and she didn't want to risk it.

Carefully, she sat herself on the side of the bed, opening the box with upmost precaution. She didn't know what she was expecting to be inside, but its contents wasn't something she had even thought of.

It was a dress. With nimble fingers, she lifted the cloth out of its folding, admiring it closely. It was made of thin, dark navy, matte material. She held the dress up in the air to look at the silhouette, only to discover it had little structure; it was meant to cling to her body.

The thought of clothing tightly hugging her form embarrassed her. She was never permitted to wear anything that a nun wouldn't wear. She always dressed in modest clothing, nothing that showed too much skin or made her curves stand out.

She then did a take of her appearance now. No matter how snug the new dress fit, it would be better than the skimpy excuse of clothing that she was wearing. She was sure that if she didn't comply with his orders that he would send her out they way she looked. She shyly started to undress, wary of the door, making sure that no one would walk in on her. The wound made it difficult , but eventually the fabric landed in the right place.

She made her way to the full length vanity near another corner of the room. It was a long, oval shape mirror that let her see her full body. She had never really taken a chance to get a good look at herself since the incident, but it was safe to say that she wasn't too happy about what she saw. Her hair, which was usually kept tied in a neat ponytail fell in non-uniform waves cascading down to her lower waist. Her eyes were slightly swollen, it was probably worse before. She was sickly pale, ghost like, unhealthy clashed with her already red lips and dark brown hair. The dress wasn't as tight as she had initially anticipated, it had a modest neckline, but plunged into a 'V' near her back, revealing her bare back. It clung to her bust, but flowed down to her knees.

She guessed that some of her time had yet been used, and she moved to the mini bar again. This time it wasn't to grab a drink, she had enough, but to get the towel that hung on the side of the table. The ice in the bucket had melted. She dipped the hand towel down into the water, bringing it back up to her face. It coldness gave her eyes the much needed relief from strain. She held it in place, savoring the feeling it gave her.

She repeated it again, then moving down to the rest of her face, and then her neck. It felt amazing to wash some of the dirtiness away, to get a little bit away from the horror story she was in.

Wary of the reappearing pain in her side, she slowly walked to the mirror again. She couldn't recognize her reflection, it looked like an entirely new person. New clothes, the hair, the ring on her finger, meek demeanor, swollen eyes, none of it even held semblance to person she remembered herself to be.

Maybe it had been born that way, or maybe it had been hidden from her when she was younger, but the woman that stared back at her was undeniably stunning. Her father had told her that her looks were a curse, something that was asking for trouble. He made her hide the features that he had fallen in love with her mother away. For the first time in her life, she realized that she was a pretty girl.

She stared, somewhat confused by what she saw.

"_You look nice," _it was a compliment, but it sounded like a sneer to her ears.

She didn't have to turn around, she could see his image through the mirror. He was leaning on the backboard of the bed, arms cross, smug expression slapped onto his face.

She had newly considered herself to be an attractive young woman, but she was amazed by his appearance. He was beautifully handsome. He had changed his clothing since she last saw him. He looked, for the most part, the same, dressed in the same style. But the clothes were new, still black, still formal. She watched as he lifted the hem of his sleeve to check the time on his wristwatch.

He kicked another box towards her. She turned around, bent over, and opened it. They were shoes, flats, with a nonexistent heel. She could only assume that he had given her ones without height so that she wouldn't further injure herself. It was difficult enough walking with a gunshot wound, it would be even harder if she was walking in stilettos.

He wordlessly waited for her to place the shoes over her dainty, bare feet. Without consulting her, he made his way to the door. He opened it and walked out; she followed.

She focused on his broad shoulders as they continued their way down the long hallway. It was eerie, scary, she didn't know what to do.

It did her little comfort when she realized what he had said earlier was right. He was her only life line, she knew no one else. She wanted to hit, scream, throw a fit, because as much as she feared him, she was more afraid of the others she was going to encounter.

**End Chapter 4**

A/N: Hmm so a little bit of sexual tension going on with the whole hair touching...lol ok not really, but it was a bit uncomfortable for me to write. I hope that you guys like it! I'll try to update soon :)


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